


Soda-Can Walls and Gravel Roads

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: OhSam challenge fics [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: ohsam, Gen, Insomnia, OhSam Triple Play 2016, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: Dean can hear everything that goes on in their trailer, except what's happening in Sam's head.ohsam tripleplay prompt of seedy trailers + dean + insomnia.





	

The aluminum walls of the single-wide trailer were soda-can thin, and the lack of privacy had Dean on edge. He was aware of every noise and every movement he made, as he shifted on the skinny mattress. Across the room, the other twin bed stood empty.

While John was on a hunt, Sam usually moved into the bedroom with him, his lanky frame too long for the couch out front, but it was different this time. Sam said that the humidity and smell of the bedroom was keeping him up, not to mention the annoying proximity of his big brother in a room so narrow that their hands would bump against each other when they turned over in the night.

Dean was tuned in to all the noises his little brother made in the night - the tossing, the turning, the snoring - and had been since Sam was a baby. So when he heard his brother crack open the living room window, he went on high alert. It was an act of mutiny on the kid's part because he knew that Dad would never allow it, windows and doors sealed tight around them, protecting them against the sleaze of the outside world, both human and supernatural, that were creeping around in the middle of the night. 

Sam was probably hoping for a wisp of a breeze to cool off and help him sleep, and instead only let in the fetid tang of garbage cans from next door.

His little brother had been a light sleeper since the day he was born, prone to dreams and nightmares, and since John left a few days ago, the kid couldn’t stay still. Dean could hear him grabbing a glass of water at the kitchen sink or searching the cupboards for midnight snacks like a squirrel on a mission. Something was going on with Sam, something that triggered his big brain into overdrive, and Dean could hear his thoughts tumbling one over the other, but in the light of day, he couldn't weasel the details out of him.

“Sam, go to bed!” 

Sam sat back down on the couch, but twenty minutes later, the front door to the trailer opened with a certain amount of stealth but the cheap metal of its screen door squeaked as it was shut.

Sonofabitch. Dean debated whether to go after him, to give Sam his space, but after the episode in Flagstaff a few years back, he knew that wasn’t an option. He rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath as he tied his shoelaces.

A few minutes later, Dean stepped out of the shadow of their trailer, emerging onto the patchy gravel trail that served as a road between the units. A quick glance up and down the path didn’t reveal Sam, so he picked a random direction and started to jog. His brother came into view around the first curve, his white t-shirt and pajama pants glowing in the street light. He was walking gingerly and that’s when Dean noticed the bare feet.

“Sam, wait up!” 

Sam looked back as if surprised that Dean caught onto his escape so quickly, but then he yipped in pain, sinking to the ground. By the time Dean ran up, Sam’s face was scrunched up and his right foot was pulled into his lap.

“What happened?” Dean kneeled next to him, pushing his hand away from the dirty wound. The slice along the arch of Sam's foot looked long and the blood was black, not red, in the low light. A jagged piece of beer bottle lay half hidden in the gravel and Dean grabbed it, flinging it away. “We need to get you back inside, clean this thing off. Goddamnit, Sam, what the hell are you doing walking around this time of night?”

A look of shame passed over his brother's face, followed by a defiant lift to his chin. “I’m not a kid, Dean. I can go for a walk whenever I feel like it.”

“Middle of the night? In your bare feet? Guess, you really wanted a tetanus shot this year.” He hauled his little brother up, noticing how much bigger Sam was getting, how at seventeen - almost eighteen - he was finally hitting a growth spurt, and it looked like the kid would be passing him in height soon enough.

They hobbled side by side, Sam’s arm thrown over Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s arm wrapped around Sam’s waist supporting his weight, in an uneasy and awkward partnership back to the trailer. It wasn’t until his brother was seated on the ratty couch once again, that Dean spoke.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, Sammy.” He wiped down the injured foot with a washcloth, wringing out the dust and blood into a small bowl on the floor. "I know something’s up with you - you’re not as good at hiding it as you think.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably, his gaze touching on the front window, the kitchen, the bedroom. Anywhere but Dean’s face.

“I’m just… having trouble sleeping, is all.” Sam’s voice trailed off as if lack of sleep were finally catching up with him.

“Really? I hadn't noticed." Dean wrapped up the foot with gauze from the first aid kit, and patted it when he was done. “Well, at least the cut isn’t too deep. You’ll survive, but I’m serious about getting a shot, okay?”

“Dean,” Sam breathed out, the sound sad and low, as if tears were on the horizon. “If I wasn’t here, if I wasn't hunting, you would still be my brother, right?” 

Dean’s heart did a quick step as he thought about dogs and pizza boxes and dusty high desert roads. “Sam, c’mon, we will always be together. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

His reassurance had an unexpected urgency, but the broken sigh that answered it was not what he hoped to hear. Sam laid down on the couch, curling his wounded foot up as he pulled the blanket around him.

“You’re right, Dean. Not going anywhere. See you in the morning."


End file.
